Fool's Waltz
by Marky-Mark7
Summary: Happens immediately after NWMN. After the Lumberjack ghost is pacified, Pacifica teaches Dipper how to dance. They get a chance to calm down and talk. One-shot. *page breaks (line running all across page) perspective change. Review after reading.


A/N: So, this is the first story I've ever thought about publishing. As it is my first, I welcome **constructive** criticism. I hope I didn't write anyone out-of-character. This was beta'd by the lovely proseandsongs. Visit her on tumblr and ao3 if you like Dipper and Pacifica.

* * *

 _Pacify sister by getting her and her friends into fancy party- check._

 _Explore mansion in search of alleged "ghost"- check._

 _Exorcise said ghost- ….check._

 _Worry about McGucket's laptop countdown- eh, tomorrow._

Mabel always said that making checklists was unspontaneous and therefore not entirely human. But Dipper couldn't entirely kick the habit. In lieu of paper checklists, he'd resorted to making mental checklists.

 _It's just the way I am._ He thought to himself. _Checklists are organized. They're like plans. Without plans, you have no clearly defined goal. And_ not _having a plan is practically one step before anarchy! It's-_

"Hey."

The informal greeting felt out of place at such a posh party, regardless of the fact that Pacifica let "the riffraff" in, and halted Dipper's thought process. He turned to see the young lady of the hour pleasantly smiling at him.

"Hey." He responded with a similar nonchalance. "Got a servant to lick the carpets clean?"

"Pshh" Pacifica Scoffed. "Yeah, right after he spit-shined my shoes."

Dipper figured she was joking, despite how clean her shoes did, in fact, look.

"Well, we can't have an unkempt hostess, now can we?" he snarked back.

* * *

"Well, we can't have an unkempt hostess, now can we?"

Pacifica balked. _Wow. Can he sass or what? So that's how it is huh? Well, two can play at this game._ The bouncy pop music stopped and a waltz started up. _Ah… Perfect._

"We can't have idle guests either. Why are you just standing around? You just ran halfway around the mansion trying to get rid of a ghost! Relax a little, dance!" said Pacifica.

Dipper's face sobered up P.D.Q.*

"Oh, uh… I- I- I'm not good at dancing. And I don't really know anyone here but Mabel," He said in a small voice.

"It's not that difficult. Here, I'll show you."

Pacifica grabbed Dipper's hand and pulled him to the dance floor ("Wha-? Hey!") before the stupefied tween could argue his point any further. She stopped and faced him at a spot a couple yards from dead center of the dance floor.

 _Hm. We're the same height,_ she noted. Pacifica's numerous dance instructors had all been at least a few inches taller than her, in preparation for dancing with taller men at future functions. _This will be interesting,_ she thought.

"Now, you hear the music the four-piece orchestra is playing?"

She watched as Dipper went from after-shock to surround-sound focus. She could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, registering the waltz that started a few seconds ago. He looked back at her as if she had turned into his third-grade teacher, confusion underscored by a light horror clear and present on his face.

"It's a waltz," Pacifica continued. "Stand up straight and look over my right shoulder."

He did.

"Now, raise your left hand out to your side. Good." Pacifica took his left hand in her right. "And your other hand goes on my left shoulder blade." The look he gave her was pure, unadulterated terror. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, just do it."

Hesitantly, Dipper cupped Pacifica's shoulder blade as close as he could with her dress' fluffy shoulder strap in the way. She, in turn, rested her left hand on his right shoulder. Actually **on** his shoulder, she noted silently.

"Count the beats with me. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three."

"O-one, two, three…" Dipper stammered. His focus was off and Pacifica picked up a stressful tone in his voice. A bead of sweat started to roll down his left temple.

 _He's nervous. That's kind of cu-_

Pacifica felt her composure slipping as the new train of thought greased the rails before itself. She hit the brakes before it could gain any more speed.

She could feel warmth in her cheeks and looked down before it reached her ears.

"O- okay. Now imagine there's a square on the floor in front of you."

Dipper looked down.

"One. You're going to step out to the top corner with your left foot… Good." Pacifica stepped back to mirror him.

"And then glide your right foot up and to the opposite top corner, two. Good."

Again, she mimicked his step.

"Then three, your left foot slides across to the right. Good, new count. One- step back with your right foot to the bottom corner of the box."

A small twitch accompanied this movement.

"Okay, now glide your foot, left this time, back, and to the other bottom corner- two. And three, your right foot slides across the bottom to the left. And you're back where you started."

Pacifica looked up to reassure him with a warm smile. Dipper glanced up, a tad unsure, but with a hopeful smile of his own.

The brakes released. The new train gathered speed again.

 _He looks cute when he's learning. I wonder what else he's learned with that Journal of his-_

Scrrreeeech went the brakes again, almost halfway to the next station.

"S-so let's try that a few times to practice." She said before she started blushing again.

 _Did he catch on? He doesn't seem aware of my thoughts... just my feet. He's probably trying not to step on them. Okay._

* * *

They went through the steps five or six times, clumsily in Dipper's case, before they caught up to the timing of the music. Pretty soon their movements synced, and their dancing became smoother. There was an occasional fumble as Dipper misstepped, but he seemed to be a fast learner.

"Hey, this is kinda like square danc-" Dipper stopped talking abruptly, ears turning red at his faux pas. _Dang it!_ He thought, _Now she's gonna ask-_

"Square dancing?" Pacifica's face broke into a sly grin. "You can square dance? Oh, I've _got_ to hear this."

Dipper sighed. _Embarrassment city, here we come._

"Well, being siblings, and even closer as twins, Mabel and I do most of our extracurricular activities together. She really wanted to learn square dancing last year, so I signed up so she wouldn't be partner-less." He was smiling fondly at this point. "It's a little embarrassing, but I guess it was fun. And I guess good practice for this."

"That's not embarrassing. You got to do something you enjoyed. That's probably why you learned this dance so fast. It took me four days to learn how to box step well enough to please my father."

They turned to look at Preston, who was bravely trying to scold Manly Dan for jumping in the cider fountain. Manly Dan, on the other hand, was inviting Preston to become better acquainted with his axe. Preston, taking note of his stature, politely declined the pleasure of becoming more familiar with the tree-felling tool better. He slunk away to rearrange cutlery recently touched by Tyler.

"That reminds me," Dipper said, "What are you gonna do with the Lumberjack ghost's axe?"

They both turned away from Preston's futile OCD takeover to stare at the axe previously lodged in the Lumberjack ghost's skull. There was at least an eight foot radius around the aged logging tool, possibly due to some ghostly aura.

"Eh, my dad will probably mount it in that room the ghost was haunting. Now that his painting's empty we can put something else above the fireplace.

 _That figures._ Dipper thought, _Any excuse to flaunt a victory._

"Unless… Do you want it? Ouch!"

This last exclamation was due to Dipper stepping on her foot.

"Sorry!" he quickly apologized. "I, uh… You don't want it?"

"We have more than enough trophies we don't deserve. I'm sure you could find a better use for it."

Dipper thought back briefly to the encounter with the shapeshifter.

...He was holding Wendy's axe, trying to discern truth from lies, friends from foes, Wendy from Shapeshifter. If he'd guessed wrong, went with his heart over his mind, picked what he wanted from Wendy (* ** _wink_** ) over what Wendy was really like (* ** _zip_** ), it would have been grisly.

It's a good thing he was smart.

He swung, (* ** _shwing_** * ** _shplelch_** ), the axe burying itself in the shapeshifter's stomach, stained green with its blood…

"…Yeah, I can think of one or two uses for it." _I wonder if it has any ectoplasmic properties?_

"Then by all means, take it. I don't need any stark reminders of tonight. I'd rather have more… tender, memories." Pacifica smiled. "The kind you mount in your heart, not on the wall."

 _Tender? Mount in your heart? What's she talking about? Is she blushing?_

Dipper's psychological subway, struggling to pick up speed, suddenly got a couple hundred megawatts of idea juice.

 _She's pretty when she's smil-_

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!"

"Perhaps I spoke too soon about your fast learning…" Pacifica deadpanned.

"Heh, sorry. I guess I'm just a little… distracted. Before tonight, I thought you were just another snobby bourgeoisie lording her power over 'the commonwealth.' But tonight, between skirmishes with a Category 10 ghost, I feel like I've seen a whole new side of you. You're not as pretentious as I thought."

Pacifica was quiet for a while, expression unreadable. She looked down.

Eventually, she said "Gee, Pines. You sure know how to make a girl feel special."

"Oh no! I didn't mean-"

"I understand." Pacifica looked up. "I haven't exactly been the most gracious of hosts. And I can't just blame my own bad behavior on how my parents raised me." She looked away. "But I've learned a lot tonight too. I've learned about this town's weirdness, about my family's shady past, about you…"

 _Huh? M-me? What does she mean by that?_

Pacifica continued, seemingly unaware that she might have said anything odd. "I realize just how much money corrupts people. My family has done a whole slew of nefarious deeds to maintain our power. But," Pacifica looked back with determined eyes, smiling faintly, "from now on, I'm going to try to be a better person."

Dipper smiled encouragingly. _She's changing, for the better._

"Now," Pacifica said, with a challenging look in her eye, "think you're ready to try some spins?" she asked with a grin.

 _Oh, That's how it is, huh? Well, two can play at this game._

"Hm, Spins… You mean, sorta like _this_?" Dipper gave her a quick twirl against the cue of the music. The black swan feathers lining her dress billowed out as she quickened her footwork to keep up, caught off guard by Dipper's forwardness. She took in a breath as he spun her back to himself, smiling confidently.

 _How's_ that _?_

Pacifica took a moment to regain her composure. "Not bad, though your timing is off." She said, trying not to look impressed.

 _One. Two. Three. One Two. Three. Spin!_

Dipper gave her another twirl, this one perfectly in time with the music. It was more difficult to maintain her composure this time and she twirled back with rose-tinted cheeks. She said nothing, but continued dancing with an unreadable expression. Was she embarrassed? Frustrated? Confused? Whatever she felt, conflict was a certainty.

They danced the rest of the night, through slow songs and not-so-slow songs. And as the scene shrank with perspective, they became two short figures moving gracefully amoung the surging throng, which ebbed and flowed against the hosts' will. The picture became fuzzy for a moment, as though the camera moved backward through some transparent wall. And now we are looking at the Northwest mansion, grand and imposing against the night sky. The stars twinkled overhead, as if gossiping about the future. Songs, wars, revolutions, understandings, romances.

Of course, no one knows what the future may bring, but it is always talked about with a modicum of hope.

* * *

*Pretty Darn Quick

A/N: I like to think Dipper has collected artifacts/tools from various adventures over the summer-

· the President's key

· a shard of the height-altering crystal

· the black light

· the mind-erase gun

· the dead lumberjack's axe

-which he figured he could use later.

And I called this a dance-shot because it's like, a one-shot, but they're dancing, dan **ce sh** ot. Whatever.


End file.
